


Talk/Show

by zjofierose



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: First Time, Interviews, M/M, Touring, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Zach go on Rove to be interviewed. Rove asks them some questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk/Show

“You boys ready for this?” 

The assistant has her headset on, listening with one ear to the stage directions and nodding absently to the voice in her head. Zach resists the urge to straighten Chris’ interminably crooked tie, and nods at her. 

“Ready.”

They follow her out onto the stage, smiling and waving and taking their little stage bows. It’s early in the press tour yet, but Zach is tired of it all already. The last time it hadn’t gotten to him so quickly, but this time… it just all seems so fake. The laughs, the touches, the _bromance_. He can only imagine what the audience would think if they knew the truth; that he’d bend Chris over backstage and fuck him raw if only he thought he had half a hope of getting away with it. That he devoutly wishes _bromance_ covered eating pancakes in bed, then licking the syrup of his co-star’s blunt fingers one by one.

It doesn’t, obviously, so he leaves well enough alone. But maybe that’s what it is; last time, on the last tour, he’d been so far in denial about what he was feeling that all the closeness was just a thrill. Now… now it’s sheer torture.

“Gentlemen, I have for you the Final Five.” The host’s eyes twinkle; he’s cute, in a generic sort of way, Zach thinks. Australian and relatively young, innocuous in his suitably inoffensive suit. Chris is nodding and smiling like the suave motherfucker he is these days, so the host looks at his little card and continues. 

“Chris Pine- when you are looking for a… ‘romantic partner’” he draws out his words, his tone the verbal equivalent of air quotes “which will you choose- lovely and vapid, or brilliant and hideous?”

Chris makes a show of thinking about it, which makes Zach want to snort in derision. Chris may like hot chicks, no lie, but he’s also a grammar nazi and a philosophical snob. He pulls out that devastating smile and shifts his weight in the chair.

“I’ll take the beauty with the brains, thank you. I don’t believe in no-win scenarios.”

The audience loves it and the host chuckles, and Zach manages to resist rolling his eyes, for the moment, which is good, because it’s his turn next.

“Mr. Quinto…” the man is saying, and Zach takes a second to wonder why he’s always Mr. Quinto when Chris is always Chris; is he really that scary? That aloof? “Do you have a lucky pair of underwear?”

It’s an unusual enough question that he actually has to think about it for a second, before deciding to just go with the truth. Rove’s been nice enough; he may as well play along.

“Nope, not at the moment. The last pair disintegrated in the wash a few months ago.” He makes a sad face as the audience _awwws_ , then smiles, thinking to himself at the horror his agent must be feeling as she contemplates the number of fan packages containing boxers, briefs, or other that will soon be coming his way. 

Rove makes a moue of disappointment, but he’s already turning back to Chris. Chris is the more famous one, these days, and Zach really doesn’t give a fuck. It’s evident all the time, in all the little things, just like this- Chris will get three questions to Zach’s two, because the audience likes him just that little ratio more. 

It doesn’t matter, it really doesn’t; Zach’s never felt in competition with Chris, they’re too different. Besides, he’s a Chris fan, though perhaps for different reasons than most. 

He’s a fan of the way Chris tongues the glottal stops into his words, the American Western accent putting a pause where none should be. Mount’n. Capt’n. Fuck’n. He’s a fan of the heat that radiates off of Chris’s sleeping body when he’s sprawled next to Zach on any of the interminable flights, his whole form oozing heat into the air around him like he owns it, owns the very movement of the atoms. He’s a fan of the shape of the inside of Chris’ mouth, which he knows from when he traced it the one time they kissed, not long after the first tour, with Chris giggly-drunk on too much schnapps and tasting of vanilla, his mouth wide and flat and open for him. 

It’s never been mentioned since, and Zach’s made that be ok. 

He still remembers, though. The taste.

He’s missed the third question, but it’s ok, the camera wouldn’t have been on him anyway, and he’s sure no one’s watching him watch Chris. His poker face is good enough, it will shield him, hide him in the space between the pixels on the screen. 

Rove turns to him now, his face politely interested as he reads the next question, and it’s something about who would play his part in the movie of his life. He goes for the laughs and names Leonard, smiling with all his teeth until the laughter has died down. The host is pleased, nods at him in perfunctory thanks. They always appreciate it when you make their job a little bit easier; there’s nothing worse for a host than a dead-fish guest, so Zach tries to make it better when he can. 

He’s done, now, his little part in the current excitement discharged with honor. His publicist will be pleased, he thinks, except for the bit about where Chris got more questions, but whatever. He turns back to watch Chris take them out with flair, like he does. 

“So, Chris.”

Chris’ face is tensed into a smile; he clearly knows what’s coming, just like the audience, just like Zach. It’s the particular twist of this show, freely available on cable or internet for all who care. Karl must’ve warned him, Zach thinks. Chris would never have found out on his own.

Chris’ knee is bouncing just slightly where it’s pressed against Zach’s own, and he resists the urge to reach out and hold it still. 

The host leans forward, his mouth curled into a teasing grin.

“I have for you twenty dollars…” Chris makes a swift-fingered grab for the bill, but Rove yanks it back out of his reach, waving it in the air and tutting as he smirks. 

“No, no no! See, there’s an exchange for this twenty dollars. Play fair, young man!”

Chris is blushing now, just a little bit, and Zach takes a minute to be grateful that it’s Chris being singled out for this particular escapade, and not him. Rove clearly knows what’s up, and has decided to stay well away from anything that might imply anything about Zach’s sex life.

Chris, on the other hand, is the perfect target. Zach smiles and watches as Chris nods in reluctant acquiescence, rubbing his palms restlessly over the arms of the chair. 

“Ok. Shoot.”

“Chris Pine, fine young actor, Hollywood hunk, and all around good guy, WHO would you go gay for?”

Karl must have lied to him, Zach thinks, because Chris laughs in surprise, his head falling back and his teeth glinting in the stage lights. He turns all the way to face the man, still laughing.

“Who would I go gay for? Seriously?”

“ _Seriously_.” The man leans in expectantly.

“What the hell kind of question is that?” Chris is still laughing, but the speed of his knee jiggling has increased. Zach feels mildly disappointed. He wouldn’t have thought that Chris could be flapped by a question as dumb as this. 

“One that’s going to earn you twenty dollars.” Rove smirks gleefully. He has his patter down, Zach’ll give him that. “Go on. We’re all waiting.”

Chris laughs again. “Well, ok. That’s easy.” He pauses a second to cut his eyes sideways, reaches out and pats Zach once, hard, on the knee. 

“Zach, of course.”

“Zachary Quinto? Your erstwhile co-star? The veritable Spock to your Kirk?” Rove is grinning madly, and Zach feels his jaw fall open in shock. He manages to remember that they’re in front of a live audience, and pulls himself together enough to shut his mouth and muster a toothy grin. He prays desperately for the commercial cut, but Chris isn’t finished yet. 

“Well, yeah. I mean, who wouldn’t? The man’s a ridiculously talented, uber-smart pile of awesome guy, who just so happens to be pretty damn hot to boot.” Chris shrugs, and Zach can’t even begin to marshal his thoughts as he lets those words rattle around in his head. “Hell yeah I’d go gay for Zach. In a _heartbeat_ , man.” 

Rove hands over the money and slaps Chris on the arm, Chris who is guffawing along with the audience as he hams it up for the camera. Zach smiles and smiles, feeling the edges of his mouth begin to hurt even as he feels the blood in his heart thrumming with the force of his disbelief.

\---

They make it through the last of the taping, Zach’s mind racing in a million directions, his smile immobile under the lights. There’s the director’s cut, and he’s up and moving as fast as he can, out through the green room and down a hall, turning into corridors blindly, letting the rage wash over him.

He’s liked Chris for years, now, it’s been an open secret, or at least he’d thought so. He can’t begin to reconcile Chris’ casual teasing with the Chris he knows, with the Chris who knows how delicate his situation is, the Chris he’s always thought knew how he feels. 

It feels like betrayal, the lump in his throat bitter where it seeps up the back of his tonsils. It feels like being mocked, and he’s beyond surprised, he’s hurt, he’s shocked, he’s…

He doesn’t see Chris until he walks straight into him, crashing shoulders-first into him as Chris grasps desperately at his shoulders to keep them both upright. 

“Hey, Zach, _dude_ , what the _fuck_?”

He knows the expression on his face is hiding nothing, but he doesn’t care, not now, not after he’s been exposed on international television by the man he thought was his closest friend.

Zach doesn’t bother to answer, just grabs the front of Chris’ shirt in one hand and the nearest door knob in the other. He yanks open the door, and hauls Chris in behind him, letting the door slam shut as he shoves Chris hard up against the wall.

“Zach, _fucking hell_ , what…?”

“You’d go gay for me?”

“Zach, I… wait, _what_?”

“Chris, what the fuck? You wanna tell me where the hell you get off with this shit?” He’s breathing hard, the hurt and anger in his gut making him look away. “I didn’t know you were _mean_ , Chris.”

Chris’ hands are on his shoulders now, and he digs a thumb into Zach’s collarbone, shoving for his attention, his features moving from bewildered to pissed.

“What the hell are you _talking_ about, Zach?” He’s angry, his face going red with righteous defensiveness.

“You’d _go gay_ for me, Chris? Who the fuck would believe that? What kind of question _is_ that, anyway?” He bites his lip, staring down at the rise and fall of Chris’ chest. It’s still there, the lump in his throat. It tastes like metal, like salt and sour. “I never thought you’d mock me.”

“ _Mock_ you? Who’s mocking you, Zach?” Chris grabs his chin and raises it, forces him to meet his eyes. “I wasn’t lying, Zach. I am right fucking here.” He’s beautiful in his defiance, his upset, and Zach can’t help but stare at his mouth as his lips form the words. “You want me? I’m fucking _yours_.”

His eyes are all challenge, and Zach wants to know better, really, he does, but he can’t resist pushing further into Chris’ space, pressing their hips together and waiting for the inevitable straight-boy flinch.

It doesn’t come. 

A second passes, then another, and all he can hear is Chris’ heavy breathing, rising and falling where he’s shoved up against the length of Zach’s body, and the twitch his hips give isn’t away from Zach, it’s towards, and that can’t, it can’t be, it can’t, it…

“Mine?”

Zach can’t keep the possessive growl out of his voice, and he can feel a tremor run across Chris’ skin at the sound. 

“I…” There’s a pause, and Zach can almost hear Chris’ brain ticking over in the dark of what he thinks must be the backstage prop closet. “I… yes, Zach. Yours. All yours.”

That’s all he needs, really, and the words haven’t cooled on Chris’ tongue before Zach is imprinting his mouth on Chris’, moving his lips in a furiously studied effort to erase all thought of anyone else, ever, from Chris’ mind and mouth. 

He’s everything Zach remembered; warm and open and unyielding in the face of Zach’s onslaught, pushing back with his tongue, licking the back of Zach’s teeth even as Zach begins to bite down, pinning the twisting muscle in his incisors. 

Chris grips his shoulders instinctively, clutching, then pushing back for a moment as he sucks air in over his teeth.

“Fuck, Zach, I…” is as far as he gets, and Zach smiles in grim satisfaction. Never let it be said that Chris Pine is slow on the uptake, because he abandons whatever it was he was about to say in favor of shoving his tongue back into Zach’s mouth at the same time that he shoves his hands into Zach’s pants, popping the button and gripping Zach’s already-hard dick in a grip more painful than pleasant. 

It’s all Zach could have ever hoped for and more, so he shoves Chris back up against the wall hard, making the breath whoosh out of his lungs as Zach gets his hands on either side of Chris’ requisite plaid shirt and yanks, releasing a spray of buttons that clatter onto the floor.

Chris murmurs something that sounds like “ _…favorite shirt, motherfucker…_ ” and then Zach can’t care about anything verbal, because Chris has yanked his pants down to his knees without bothering to unzip, and somewhere between the scraped burn of where the rivets caught his hip and the too-much friction of Chris’ dry hand on his dick he thinks he may have found nirvana. 

He responds in the only way he can; by biting into the soft meat just above Chris’ clavicle as he palms him hard through the unrelenting denim over Chris’ impressive hard-on, pushing and pulling in a rhythm that increases with the tempo of Chris’ stuttered exhales. 

“So… me… admitting I want you… on foreign television…” Chris is gasping, and his grip on Zach’s dick is making him bite even harder, “that… does it for you?”

Zach gets his other hand down to flick open Chris’ button and pull the zip, letting Chris’ swollen length bounce free. Chris sighs in pleasure, and Zach works his way up the tender flesh of his freckled neck until he can grasp a delicate earlobe in between his incisors. 

“No” he hisses, and feels Chris shiver as he moves his hips up into Zach’s hand. “It’s when you say my name…”

Chris manages to shudder all over and still move his hand even faster, and Zach bites down, feeling Chris begin to jerk in his grip.

“ _Zach…_ ” is all that comes out, and that’s all it takes for Zach’s vision to whiten as he’s coming hard all over Chris’ hand and shirt before sagging against him in the utter blankness of post-orgasmic bliss.

There’s nothing for a long moment but the rushing sound of blood in his ears and the gentle wheeze of their shared hyperventilation, the tiny space suddenly close and overly warm, saturated with the smell of sex.

It’s Chris who speaks first, his tone cautious, but with a hint of optimism. 

“So. Umm. Friends?”

Zach buries his face in the hollow of Chris’ neck for a moment, alternately cursing himself for missed opportunities and thanking every god he can think of for letting his mad grasp at a ridiculous chance pay off.

“It seems like it could be… beneficial.”

He can hear the rumble of Chris’ chuckle rising up through his chest, and smiles in the darkness.

“So it could, my friend. So it could.”


End file.
